


It's Complicated

by CircleUp



Series: Don't Call It A Team Up [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Bromance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/CircleUp
Summary: Spider-man collapses in an alley and Deadpool rescues him.





	It's Complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadukiam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadukiam/gifts).

Peter lands in an alley. Collapses there, really. His arm and chest are on fire, his vision's blurring. Okay, going out on patrol while sick might not have been the best idea, but he couldn't have anticipated running into a crazed mutant. And it was a good thing he'd been there.

He shuts his eyes. His head is throbbing. He has to lift his mask to throw up.

He just needs a minute. A couple minutes, then he'll be fine.

He just needs a minute…

He just needs…

Peter wakes up warm, ensconced in unfamiliar blankets. For a little he lies there in a haze, on the edge of sleep still, enjoying the feeling. He's comfortable. He nuzzles into his pillow, which skews his mask. He's…

He jerks up, heart rabbiting in his chest. He's in boxers, which are not his own, and he's wearing only them, his mask, and the bandages wrapping around the cuts on his chest and arm, which have been doctored.

There's a Post-It note by the bed that he reads.

_Spidey, don't panic! I know you're panicking but_

Peter is left confused until he notices the next series of notes, these ones stuck to the wall in a line.

_Wow these are way smaller than you'd think_

_anyway don't panic hi :)_

_Food is in the kitchen_

_Actually so am I maybe_

_join when you're feeling up to it!_

_You can totes take a shower if you want_

_I mean I encourage it_

_there's even clothes but totally optional_

_I'm not saying you should walk around naked but you can_

_Oh it's Deadpool_

_xoxoxoxoxo_

The boxers are of the Deadpool brand. Peter spends about a minute being mortified over them, a minute considering whether he should just stay in bed or leap out the window, but in the end his bladder makes him get up and head not for the escape hatch but to the bathroom door.

It is… dirty was not an accurate word. It doesn't encompass what the bathroom is. Peter's scared to touch literally anything in it. He thought the bedroom was bad but he's glad to be back out into it, where the only mess is dirty clothes everywhere. At least the blankets were clean, which is odd now that he's thinking about it. Now that he's comparing.

Peter feels good. Still a little run down but much better than last night. His headache's gone and his stomach has settled. On the dresser is his uniform, sans mask, folded but unwashed. Next to it is a pile of clothes and another sticky note that reads, _wear me_.

Peter's sensing a theme here. The shirt and sweatshirt (and it's the middle of summer, how does Deadpool know?) both bear the mercenary's iconic logo. They both dwarf him, but weirdly the sweatpants fit - ish - the same way that the boxers do. Peter pulls them all on and heads, ginger and barefoot, down the hallway.

Deadpool is suited up and playing on his phone, slouched on a couch that saw better days a decade ago. He looks up and beams, and Peter yet again finds himself impressed by just how much expression that mask shows. "Spideypool! The fans will have an absolute fit."

Before Peter can protest, he's held up his phone and there's the snap of the fake shutter.

Peter scowls. "Don't post that anywhere."

"Ooo. Tooooo late."

"What!" Peter's distracted by the sheer absurdity of this. It snaps him out of how defensive and vulnerable he feels, and pushes him right into outrage. "How? It's been like, a second!"

"Auto-upload! OMG, it's already got 12 likes!"

For his own sanity, Peter decides to ignore that and wanders into the kitchen to see if there really is food. Unlike the bathroom, it's messy but not a complete disaster. He doesn't feel like he's going to catch anything from it. There's mac and cheese on the stove cooling, and he helps himself, just taking the pot and spoon and rolling his mask part way up. He isn't so sure about the other dishes, and Deadpool doesn't protest.

"So. The boxers," Peter begins in accusation after he's halfway through the pot.

Deadpool says, "Okay yeah that one's my bad, totally on me," which surprises Peter right out of a sexual assault accusation. "You bled all over your Spidey-suit and I was not expecting you to be commando."

Peter's blushing under the mask, the accusations gone. "Underwear leaves lines."

"Oh no I totes get it. Super hot, also. No cup though? Really? I can tell you're glaring at me. It's cute."

"It isn't cute," he mutters, which Deadpool ignores.

They aren't friends, that's the thing. They aren't enemies either, but their relationship is… antagonistic, at best, and Peter lapses into a silence while he eats and Deadpool explains exactly why pouting is adorable, or something else. Peter isn't listening.

"Don't overthink it," the Merc says, sudden, louder. Peter's caught off guard again and frowns at him. "Just gimme the clothes back later. Or keep them actually, they look good on you. Doesn't need to change anything, you know?"

Deadpool peels himself off the couch and gives Peter a little wiggle of his fingers, a wave. He leaves out the front door.

Peter didn't say thanks. He doesn't honestly know if he would have, if Deadpool had stuck around.

He washes the pot and collects his suit and heads out the door too.


End file.
